


Trust Factor

by Destinyawakened



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan)
Genre: M/M, Rough Sex, beatings, before the dark knight rises, placed after the dark knight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 08:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6603469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destinyawakened/pseuds/Destinyawakened
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why are you doing this?” Gordon growled lowly into the man’s ear. Bruce’s back jolted up against Gordon’s chest, but Gordon held to the wall a little harder. Bruce had never been able to get out of this well, and Gordon knew it. He’d used it many times to get his way with Bruce. He pushed Bruce’s cheek into the wall and saw that Bruce was looking at him longways. The feral look in his eyes now turned into a big black pit of longing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trust Factor

Jim Gordon’s knuckles still burned. He was cradling a bag of frozen peas around them, trying to keep the swelling down. He was also aware that he most likely had a nice bruise forming on the side of his jaw, but that one he could live with – a swollen hand, he couldn’t; not for his job. He sat in the dark, in his chair, in front of the television he never used, in an apartment he rarely lived in. That would change. He wouldn’t be going back to Wayne Manor or Bruce’s penthouse. This was home, and this was where he should have been for two years and not running around town getting caught in every newspaper headline with Bruce Wayne.

_What a fucking waste of time_ , he thought. Two years down the drain, spent on a man who not only couldn’t be honest with himself, but also couldn’t be honest with those around him. Gordon wondered if Bruce had ever intended to tell him he was Batman. It wouldn’t have changed his mind about the pact they had made; he would’ve still insisted on that for the betterment of Gotham had they kept it. But even then, he wasn’t sure now that Bruce – Batman – would have kept his end of it. Gordon had a lot of questions he wouldn’t mind answered, but he wasn’t willing to back down from what he had said to Bruce earlier about not seeing him anymore.

Gordon glared at the blank television, the porch-light gleaming off the dark screen. He could just barely make out his own figure. He began to feel a little lonely. It had been four years since Barbara took the kids and skipped town. He only knew their marriage was over when the divorce papers arrived along with a note that said not to try to find her or the children. He felt horrible for weeks afterwards, throwing himself into his work to take the edge off the pain. That was around the time he and Batman made their pact. He didn’t care. Even when he started having a rowdy affair with Bruce Wayne, it still didn’t change his mind. He didn’t get to see his kids and only really heard from them once a year, on Christmas – he was sure they wouldn’t miss him. Grieve a little, yes, but nothing more.

He wished like hell the Joker had done it; pushed that button and let him die in a huge, disgusting mess. Gordon began to wonder whom he blamed more: the Joker or Batman. The Joker was a sick criminal who did this sort of thing for a living, and Batman was some rich kid whose parents died when he was nine, leaving him seeking revenge. Gordon found the easiest thing was to blame the one most responsible, which would be the Joker. But he found that when he searched harder into his heart, he blamed Batman the most. The Joker knew somehow that Gordon and Bruce had been an item for some time, not that they exactly hid it from public view – neither of them really cared who knew. And then the Joker had deduced that Batman was, in fact, Bruce Wayne and used it against them. The clown was smart, a lot smarter than Gordon would have ever wanted to give him credit for. Usually Batman was far ahead of the criminals, always three or four steps ahead of them. But this time he was blindsided and caught off guard. It was exactly what the Joker wanted.

Gordon flexed his hand, seeing if he could move his fingers without so much pain now. The swelling had gone down a little, but he still felt the surge of pain running through his knuckles. He still didn’t regret it. Rich and sometimes pompous, Bruce Wayne needed a good punch to the face. Hell, Batman needed a good punch to the face from someone other than one of his enemies. That thought made Gordon wince outwardly. He had known Batman for six years and even though they didn’t always get along, Gordon considered him a good friend. He had to be honest with himself now; had to realize that he didn’t just lose a close lover, he lost a very close friend tonight.

He was very much alone. He tried to reassure himself that it was better this way. That it had always been better this way.

\---------

Trudging into his office at the Major Crimes Unit the next morning was harder than Gordon had expected. Every single detective was staring at him – at his jaw – as he passed them. Each set of eyes following him until he was out of their sight. He tried his best to avoid meeting the glares that followed him straight to his office. He didn’t need to hear the murmurs to know they were passing from mouth to mouth like fire. He expected any second that --

There was a knock on his door. He glared at the frosted glass knowingly, seeing the dark outline of someone on the other side. He pulled the door open a crack, and Renee Montoya peeked her head in first and then slid her slender body the rest of the way through. How did he know she would be the one to come check up on him? Because she always was. She looked up to him, he knew, like a second father. It only seemed reasonable, considering his frumpy appearance and bruised jaw that she would feel the need to find out the latest.

“So...” she started, folding her arms over her chest and standing in front of the door so no one else could attempt to barge in on them. “Late night?”

“Something like that,” Gordon responded as he moved to his desk. He shuffled some papers around, pushing his glasses a little further up his nose. Renee was one of the few people who knew “for sure” that he and Bruce had been dating; everyone else just assumed or never approached him on it, as they usually didn’t want to know. _What you don’t know can’t hurt you._ Maybe there was something to be learned in that. Maybe.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Renee flipped the lock on the door and walked to stand next to him, getting a little closer to his jaw. She sure didn’t make it obvious or anything that she was checking out the purple fist mark on his face.

“No. Not really.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and she scowled at him. He picked up the papers and plopped down in his desk chair. “You aren’t going to leave unless I tell, are you?”

She sat down on edge of his desk, lips pursed and still glaring, very much the same way Gordon often remembered his mother would do when he had lied to her. Gordon sighed and threw the stack of papers back down on the desk. “I’m sure you heard the news about the Joker escaping yesterday, right?”

Renee nodded.

“Right. Had a bit of a run-in with him last night on my way back to Bru--” he caught himself saying the younger man’s name casually, cleared his throat, and went on “-- Wayne’s place. It didn’t end well.” So maybe he lied to Renee a little; it was true to a point.

“You got in a fist fight with the Joker? I take it he won if he’s not locked back up and you have that nice bruise.” She wasn’t buying it, obviously. Gordon just continued to stare back at her, waiting for her to crack and pretend to believe him. She shook her head. “Seriously?”

Gordon nodded.

“You should probably know that Bruce has already been calling here all morning looking for you. He’s left at least twenty messages with Linda and called Bullock’s office at least ten times to see if he’s seen you. Stephens said he wasn’t answering _his_ phone after hearing about everyone else getting the calls.” She was looking at him fondly now, a little worry written across her face. “What actually happened?”

“I’d rather not talk about it. It’s personal, Renee.” He didn’t need the whole unit knowing about his personal life, and he was sure that somehow it would make it out of building and into the papers that the Commissioner and billionaire Bruce Wayne duked it out last night in a lovers’ brawl. No, he didn’t need that. People could assume what they wanted, but they weren’t getting truth out of him.

“Jim...” she warned, but he held up a hand to stop her. She closed her mouth in a tight line, and stood. She patted him on the shoulder. “What do I tell him when he calls again?”

“Tell him I’m not in.” Simple enough. Renee looked at him knowingly. She didn’t need the answer from Gordon’s mouth to know the two had had a fight and split up. She nodded and left the room.

\--------

The first week went on, slowly and without much remorse on Gordon’s part. Bruce attempted every day to call MCU in hopes someone would patch him through to the Commissioner’s office. Gordon had to make it clear by writing a note on his office door that read: **No Phone Calls**. He even went to locking his windows at home and work, as he knew that was Batman’s favorite way to sneak up on him. He thought he’d done a pretty decent job in detouring the playboy thus far. One week and only one phone call and a few e-mails. He imagined it would begin to slow down over time and then stop all together after a few weeks.

There was also the on-going issue with the Joker. Except, it wasn’t an issue at all – he was nowhere to be seen or heard from. It baffled Gordon, really; he had no idea what to expect, where to look, or what to do. Usually Batman had some sort of lead on the case and they could work it that way. But he had to remind himself that Batman wasn’t a welcome soul in his life anymore. When asked by Renee and Bullock why they hadn’t gone up to the MCU rooftop to set the switch on the signal, he merely suggested that they figure out how to deal with the Joker on their own and that Batman had better things to do than clean up the streets they’ve been neglecting.

He didn’t even care if it hurt them to hear it. It was the truth and nothing could change that. Nothing. By the start of week two, the phone calls had kept up, until one day Gordon received none at all. No e-mails, no notes, no texts, no voice-mails... just nothing. It was sudden and unexpected. He thought for sure Bruce would slowly lay off until it was down to nothing at all. He didn’t think the billionaire would just drop it flat-out. Gordon even found he waited all day by his phone, at his secretary’s desk, and checked his mail often. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He almost thought he was angrier that Bruce gave up after only a week or so. _That’s pretty selfish, Jim..._

Gordon sat tapping his pen on his desk, dazing out as he watched the sunset down past the buildings out his window. He couldn’t help but feel a little worried. He knew Bruce well enough that it wasn’t like him.. but there was that thought, too, that suggested Gordon didn’t know Bruce well at all; he had kept his Batman secret from the commissioner for over two years. Maybe this was more like Bruce than he expected. Maybe. But why was he still feeling the dread?

_No. I should be angry. He’s only doing this to get me to call him_. Yes, that was it completely. Bruce was playing the manipulator. Gordon threw his pen down in annoyance. It was definitely something a lying vigilante would do.

Wasn’t it?

He didn’t want to feel worried. He didn’t want to feel anything for Bruce Wayne. He wanted to do his job and move on with his life. Gotham was all Gordon had left and he was giving himself to her, wholeheartedly once again. Nothing was going to make him change his mind. He made a promise, and unlike some men who dressed up in bat costumes, Jim Gordon was going to keep it.

\-------

Later that same day Gordon was on his way home when a call came over the scanner in his car. There was a 9-1-1 call placed for 1007 Mountain View Drive: Wayne Manor. Gordon knew; he’d driven there enough in the past two years to know the address before it was even finished being said... His heart skipped, a low thumping in his chest as he tried to comprehend the next words that were spoken.

The Joker.

Gordon placed a call to dispatch and told them to get a team down there as quickly as possible and he would meet them there. The Joker crossed a line the at their last meeting and he wasn’t about to let him do it again. Whatever he was planning at the Wayne Manor, Gordon was going to be sure to put an end to it.

Silently, Gordon didn’t want to even think about what the Joker had in mind for Bruce, especially if it had anything to do with their last meeting. It wasn’t going to be good.

\--------

Gordon arrived just after the police cars. The sirens were blazing and few officers were out of their cars awaiting orders from the commissioner. He parked the car, dashed out and shouted for the nearest group of officers to follow him into the mansion. The Manor was dark except for one light on towards the study, where Gordon had been just a week earlier. The pit of his stomach sank at the thought and he began to hope to God that this was just a prank of Bruce’s to get him to come see him.

He knew that he would never be able to live with himself if something had actually happened to Bruce. He might have been angry with him, disappointed – even betrayed. But he wouldn’t wish ill of the billionaire in a thousand years. He still cared for his well-being, whether he wanted to or not. It made the situation he was possibly going into that much worse.

Bruce was Batman, though. Couldn’t Batman take care of himself? That made the situation a bit uneasy for him. Perhaps Alfred had placed the call because Bruce wasn’t able to handle the situation and was being held captive? Gordon could only speculate until he got into the house.

He approached the front door. It was slightly ajar and he pushed it in, five men behind him. He pulled his own gun, unlocking the safety. He walked down the hall towards the study, a light could be seen behind a closed door. He heard the murmur of a British accent – Alfred. He sounded almost frantic, uneasy. Gordon took up a faster pace and stopped momentarily at the closed door ahead of him. He put his hand on the knob and an ear to the door; had to be sure he knew what he was getting his men into. He heard a laugh – the Joker – and then the sound of something cracking. Gordon almost thought it sounded liked a firecracker. He twisted the door handle and knocked the door in with his shoulder.

He found himself face-to-face with a pale-faced Alfred who had his hands in the air motioning to the other side of the room. Gordon turned his gaze quickly, letting his eyes settle on a man in a white t-shirt and blue jeans, on his knees in front of another man in a rumpled purple suit. Gordon stepped a little closer, his men not far behind. Bruce had the Joker by collar, fist raised to meet the painted white face of the other man.

Gordon wasn’t fast enough and he heard Bruce’s knuckles meet with the Joker’s face and watched as he raised his fist again for another blow. This time, the commissioner was close enough to grab the billionaire’s wrist and stop him. Bruce dropped the clown to the floor with a soft thunk and stood quickly, fist instead meeting Gordon’s nose with a loud crack sounding through his ears. Gordon grabbed at his nose and swore under his breath. He was seeing spots now, but he could still see Bruce in front of him, another fist coming at his head.

He ducked, throwing a punch at Bruce’s torso, catching the younger man off guard, and throwing his other fist into Bruce’s jaw. He watched as the other man staggered back from the impact, holding his face and glaring at Gordon in disbelief. This was the second time Bruce underestimated him, and he wasn’t going to be shown-up and he wasn’t going to back down. They stared at each other for what seemed more than a few moments, Bruce’s eyes were glazed over in fiery anger, his teeth bared and waiting for his next chance to attack. Gordon didn’t like it. He looked to the men who were carefully cuffing the Joker and ones that just stared at Wayne in shock.

“Get the Joker to MCU! The rest of you, get out!” Gordon barked. He kept his eyes on the man in front of him, watching Bruce’s reaction as he sent his men away. Bruce’s eyes narrowed and a sneer formed on his lips. Gordon began to wonder if maybe he should leave, too. This could get way out of hand.

No, it had to end. The Joker breaking into Wayne Manor had likely been another attempt to get at him and Bruce; Gordon didn’t want to think about what the clown had planned this time, but from the look on Alfred’s face at the other end of the room, it probably wasn’t good. Too bad the Joker didn’t take in account that Bruce didn’t need his Batsuit to beat the shit out of him. Still, Gordon didn’t want to think about the Joker’s intentions; it wasn’t worth it. But he could guess from the blood on Bruce’s knuckles and the way the Joker almost didn’t even look like, well, the Joker, that Bruce knew the insane man’s intentions and didn’t like them.

That, however, was no excuse for him to punch Gordon in the nose, and the commissioner was going to be sure Bruce knew that, one way or another.

“What about Wayne?” One officer asked as they carried the Joker out, stepping up beside Gordon. Everyone in Gotham guessed about the billionaire and the commissioner. It wasn’t really a secret, but they never tried to deny or hide anything. It was obvious the officer was afraid if he left the two there alone it would end in some domestic abuse case.

“I’m taking care of it. Get out.” Gordon didn’t even look at the officer, but trusted he got the notion just fine. Alfred, from the corner of the room made a slight coughing noise, obvious he wanted to intervene, but Bruce shot up a palm to hush him.

“Out!” Bruce demanded, and very slowly Alfred made his way to the office door.

“Very well, Master Wayne. Master Gordon.” And the butler was gone, door shut behind him.

“I was going to end it for you. Like you wanted.” Bruce snarled. Gordon thought he looked like a feral animal, ready to pounce and rip apart his prey. A voice in the back of his head told him Bruce was really not well, that something had to have snapped in the younger man’s mind – that he should just get out. But he couldn’t do that.

Leaving would tell Bruce he’d won. And Bruce was not going to win; he’d be put in his place. Again.

“Not like that,” Gordon replied to him. He was going to say more, say that Batman doesn’t kill, that Bruce wouldn’t dare... but really, who was he to say? Batman was capable of anything and Gordon even said himself that he didn’t know Bruce Wayne for certain anymore as it was.

Bruce obviously didn’t like that answer. He charged at Gordon, punching him in the shoulder with one fist and then the ear with his other. Gordon staggered back, holding his shoulder. Bruce threw quite a punch, and that being his bad shoulder from a being shot didn’t help any. The younger man didn’t give Gordon much to recuperate; he was rushing at him again. Gordon this time readied himself, hand out to stop Bruce’s fist from finding another weak spot. Gordon grabbed the other man’s wrist and twisted his arm behind his back, hearing Bruce curse loudly. Gordon pushed Bruce up against the wall, still holding his arm behind his back, pushing his hand up towards his shoulder blade. The older man leaned into Bruce, his face right next to the billionaire’s ear.

“Why are you doing this?” Gordon growled lowly into the man’s ear. Bruce’s back jolted up against Gordon’s chest, but Gordon held to the wall a little harder. Bruce had never been able to get out of this well, and Gordon knew it. He’d used it many times to get his way with Bruce. He pushed Bruce’s cheek into the wall and saw that Bruce was looking at him longways. The feral look in his eyes now turned into a big black pit of longing.

“God, Jim,” was all Bruce said. He had stopped struggling, his free hand on the wall in front of him, steadying him. Gordon pushed him into the wall more and Bruce groaned, but it sounded more of pleasure than pain. That wasn’t going to fly with the commissioner.

“I asked you a question.” Gordon growled again into the billionaire’s ear. He watched Bruce shiver, a shudder escaping his lips. Gordon moved the man’s arm up a little higher into his back and Bruce let out an agonizing scream.

“Fuck!” Bruce’s eyes were shut tight now, the reaction Gordon wanted this time. But Bruce still didn’t offer up an answer. Gordon took a wad of Bruce’s brown hair into his hand and pulled back and then bashed his head into the wall. The billionaire cried out in pain this time and Gordon could see a grueling, ravenous smile on the playboy’s lips. Gordon didn’t want to admit it then, but he was getting extremely turned on hurting Bruce. “Shit, Jim,” the younger man’s voice was a rasped whisper, and Gordon felt a twinge pulse through his groin. He might regret this, but every part of him was telling him to keep going.

Gordon pushed his knee between Bruce’s legs, spreading them just slightly. He then took his free hand and smashed the other man’s face into the wall again, listening to the whimpered moan escape the dry, cracked lips that had started to bleed. He knelt into Bruce with his hips, trapping the man between him and the wall, rubbing his erection against the back of Bruce’s jeans. Another moan from Bruce. A bit of cursing, too. Gordon reach into his pants pocket and pulled out his handcuffs, grabbing Bruce’s other hand and snapping the cool metal around his wrists. He turned the billionaire around and looked at the already bruising face. It’d be beyond ugly in the morning, but right now, he thought it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he wanted nothing more than to take advantage of the man.

Bruce’s eyes were half-closed, but Gordon could still see the lust building in them. He grabbed Bruce’s head in his hands, tugging on tufts of hair and mashing their lips together. He slid his tongue over Bruce’s busted lip, sucking on the seeping blood, tasting the rich copper in his mouth. Bruce muttered a “fuck” between their lips, pushing his hips against Gordon’s, showing the older man he was struggling against his own pants. Gordon knew Bruce wanted him to touch him, to let it free and pleasure him, but the billionaire wouldn’t learn if he did that. He was out to teach him a lesson – wasn’t he?

“Fuck, Jim. Just...” Bruce let out a gargled moan as Gordon moved away from him, sliding his tongue down Bruce’s neck and biting at the soft spot where his neck met his clavicle. The older man slipped his hands under Bruce’s t-shirt, letting his finger roam across his toned torso, up his chest and stopping at his nipples, where he twisted them until Bruce let out a cry, and slammed his head back against the wall with frustration.

Gordon guided Bruce over to the desk and pushed him face first into, bending him over at the waist. He reached around the billionaire, unbuttoning his pants and pushing them and his boxers to the floor. He watched Bruce’s hands strain against the cuffs, obviously itching to get more from the older man. Gordon bent down over the man, opening a few drawers in the desk, knowing full well Bruce kept condoms and lube in them (it wouldn’t have been the first time they had sex in the study). He found what he needed and placed them both by Bruce’s head, in his eyesight and he heard Bruce mutter a “shit.” He always knew Bruce was past being lustful and on to wanting to be fucked when he started to have a foul mouth.

“You don’t even deserve this from me,” Gordon whispered into his ear. And he knew Bruce really didn’t deserve to be fucked by him; that it was more than a lying, betraying billionaire deserved from a commissioner who had only ever been honest. “You don’t deserve anything.”

Bruce made an “uhnn” noise, his eyes closed tight as if waiting for Gordon to do it. _Waiting_ , Gordon thought, _and giving himself over to me completely_. That was a first. Bruce always fought him for dominance, never letting the older man take control for longer than a few minutes. Something was different here. He leaned in and licked Bruce’s ear.

“Do you trust me?”

Bruce remained still. He didn’t whimper, didn’t speak, didn’t do anything. Gordon took the bottle of lube and put some on two fingers, gently massaging around Bruce’s anus, and slowly sliding them into the billionaire’s ass. Bruce wasn’t tense, and his muscle gave way to Gordon’s touch. There was a muffled “yes” that escaped Bruce’s lips and dissipated into a moan as Gordon made a “come here” gesture with his fingers in the younger man. He pulled his fingers out, slipped the condom on his cock and lubed it up. He spread the younger man’s ass cheeks, hands on Bruce’s hips, and entered him slowly. He felt Bruce go rigid and curse under his breath again. Gordon reached one hand up and pulled Bruce’s hair. Bruce pushed back into Gordon as the older man began to thrust into him. God, he loved how he felt in Bruce, the warm and slickness; he often felt totally one, instead of two, with Bruce in these moments. He began to realize he wouldn’t – couldn’t – live without Bruce. That made him fill with renewed anger.

He dropped his hand from Bruce’s mane of hair to his shoulder and pulled him down on his cock harder with each thrust, making sure the younger man felt his cock as deep inside as he could get it. He wanted Bruce to feel the pain, to be tender afterwards – to remember it. Bruce continued to moan and let out crude words under his breath. Gordon dropped his head to Bruce’s back, reached his hand around, and grabbed the younger man’s cock. It was slick with sweat, and Gordon was easily able to pump it with his fist, and it didn’t take much for Bruce to come – Gordon had done enough to ensure that much. Bruce’s body thrusted in orgasm and Gordon let himself succumb to the heat that washed through his groin and out the head of his cock in what felt like a burst.

He could hear Bruce panting and then a soft whisper. “I do trust you. I’m so, so sorry. For everything.”

_So much for being alone._

  
  


 


End file.
